


Patience is a Virtue

by gaysandcrime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Gay Harry, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione is a Good Friend, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Severus Snape, Kissing, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oblivious Harry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Harry Potter, POV Severus Snape, Post-War, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, snarry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysandcrime/pseuds/gaysandcrime
Summary: Severus is very lost and very bitter after the war, and doesn't quite know what to make of Potter sitting at his bedside when he wakes up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago- I think it might have been in 2011, which is like, forever ago. So it's not my best and not indicative of my current writing skills, but still, I wanted to post it and maybe edit it. Possibly. We'll see.

_this chapter contains: a rescue, a nightmare (figurative, not literal), a confrontation, a request and a denial_

 

** Ch. 1 **

(Harry's POV)

  
Harry walked into the deserted, debri filled Great Hall. He stood next to what used to be the Gryffindor table, now only several slabs of cracked marble scattered around, and closed his eyes. Pain and loss filled him, and he sat down on a piece of shattered stone and wept. It felt as if he cried a million tears, and every tear represented one of the people who had been killed.

Fred. Remus. Tonks, Dumbledore, Colin. So many others. Sirius's death had been his fault, they had all been his fault. He might have fought and defeated Voldemort, but he was anything but a hero. Harry took out the Elder Wand from his pocket and stared at it dully.

His nose ran and his eyes were red as he examined the thing that had started it all, the thing that had been destroying lives ever since it had been created. He closed his eyes against the memories the wand held, memories of the man who's best intentions had destroyed Harry's light, his faith. The man who had been his everything.

Harry's lips twisted bitterly with the memories, and he shook his head. The truth is that Dumbledore had never been real, never been truthful; he was worse than Snape, manipulating Harry's whole life to match his plans! At least Snape had always told him the truth, how his father was a total git, how he was worthless -

Harry's head shot up and his eyes widened in realisation. He jumped up and ran out of the Great Hall, stumbling over broken stone in his haste to get out of there. As Harry abandoned the empty hall, the ceiling above showed a slowly lightening sky, pinks and purples mixing with the darkness. The silver half moon was fading slowly in the oncoming dawn, and time was running out.  
______________

(Snape's POV)

 

The ground was cold and unforgiving, the room dark and musty. His back was sore and his arms stiff by his sides. He could hear his wheezing breath, and his lungs felt as if they were on fire.

These were the least of his problems; he could feel the venom slowly paralysing him, even now he couldn't move his legs more than an inch from the ground.

Soon he knew his arms would be numb, and when the poisonous snake venom reached his heart, he would be gone. The only gratifying thought at the moment was that he had done what he could, done everything in his power to save the boy; now it was someone else's turn.

Suddenly an excruciating pain overtook him, and he heard a harsh scream. It felt as if his skin was melting in the heat of Fiend Fyre, and he turned his head as far as he could to look at his left forearm.

Dark spots danced on the edges of his vision, and he took in the way his pale skin seemed to bubble and melt off his arm. His eyes widened as he saw the black binding mark slowly disappear, before the pain overcame him and he let his head fall back onto the ground. It could only mean one thing, and it was something he had never dared dream; he had outlived the Dark Lord.

His lips twisted into a painful grimace of a smile as he felt the venom paralysing his waist, rising higher still.

It's a good thing I won't survive longer, he thought with a bitter smirk. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. His vision blurred and darkened, and the shadows in the room seemed to grow larger with every passing minute. Somewhere to his far right he thought he could here footsteps, but his vision faded to black before he could tell if it was anything but the poison doing things to his hearing.

Suddenly light flooded the room, and for a split second it seemed as if hauntingly familiar green eyes stared back at him, before everything went black.  
______________

 

(Harry's POV)

 

Harry rushed through the room and knelt by Snape's side, watching in horror as the mans eyes rolled back in his skull and his throat bled from a dozen separate wounds. His hands reached out to stop the bleeding, but he drew back when the body infront of him began to convulse violently.

Cursing his stupidity, Harry drew the Elder Wand and pointed it at the man infront of him. He focused his magic, and tried to concentrate on drawing the snake venom out.

Slowly, a stream of dark green liquid pooled to the top of Snapes wounds, and Harry let out a small sigh of relief. Drawing back his wand, the line of venom followed him in a toxic, glittering stream trough the air. Shuddering, he flung the liquid to the side and watched in disgust as it bubbled and burned on the floor, seeming to coil like a snake, writhing.

Harry drew his eyes away and focused on the man in the middle of the floor. Once again pointing his wand at him, he cast a silent Stabalizing charm, before pulling out three vials from his robe pocket. Dropping back to his knees, Harry placed two carefully on the floor beside him.

Holding the third in his shaking hand, he took a deep breath before unstoppering it and letting a few drops fall onto the still gaping wounds in the throat of the man before him. He watched as the silver Pheonix tears healed up the wounds before pulling out the cork to the second bottle and slowly dripping the Blood Replenishing potion into Snape's mouth, massaging the newly healed throat softly.

"You'll be alright," he said quietly as he watched some colour return to his former Professors unnaturally pale cheeks, "it's going to be alright." Harry watched the mans chest move slowly up and down, heard the breaths evening out, and a sense of relief washed over him.

Though he hadn't always liked the man, Snape was his last link to his parents, and had risked everything for Harry. He might not have been able to save everyone, but at least he was able to save someone.

Harry shifted a little, and his hand brushed up against the last vial, still filled with its silvery liquid. One more glance at the now safe and sleeping man, and he shook his head. For now he would keep this, he thought, and he pocketed the secondhand memories, the only memories he had ever had of his parents.  
___________

(Snape's POV)

 

His eyelids fluttered open slowly, and he moaned. The sharp, very real pain that he so clearly remembered feeling was gone, and he wasn't sure how. Maybe he was dead?

Slowly sitting up, he looked around at the bright light and clean crisp whiteness of everything; the walls, the floors, and the sheets. It would seem, he thought dryly, that Hell is a very clean place. Leaning back slightly, he rested his suddenly exhausted and sore body against the headboard of the strange bed and closed his burning eyes against the glaring light.

The feel of cool cotton sheets against his feverish skin felt beyond good, and he let out a nearly silent sigh as sleep overcame him.  
_____________

 

(Harry's POV)

 

Harry stood outside a blank white door and paced. Muttering darkly under his breath, he plastered a false smile onto his haggard, exhausted features everytime one of the Healers passed.

His head shot up as an old, female Healer slowly pushed through the door. Without realizing it, Harry stopped pacing and froze. "How's he doing? Is he going to be alright?"

The old woman stared at him. She was about a head shorter than him, and had greying dark hair. Harry squinted at her name tag (he wasn't wearing his glasses, he'd forgotten them in his rush to get here) and read something that could have been Healer V. Gargiolli. Then again maybe not.

"Healer Gargiolli? Did you hear me?"

She glared. "It's Gropialla, Mr. Potter. I am not deaf, I hear you perfectly."

Harry winced. Oh Merlin, definitely not. Damn his sodding eyesight. "Sorry."

She sniffed and nodded. "As for your question? He's alive, and will shortly be back to normal. Though why that is a good thing, is beyond me." Harry looked at her incredously. Had he heard her right? Surely not.

"Excuse me?"

"He's a Death Eater, Mr. Potter, and a murderer. As far as I'm concerned, he should be rotting in Askaban right now, waiting for the Dementors Kiss; not be being healed by the magical worlds finest." She crossed her small arms and turned away. 

Harry's hand twitched towards his wand and his eyes glared holes through the Healers retreating back. He itched to send every hex and curse he knew in her direction and see what "the magical worlds finest" could do with what was left.

He shook off his anger and ran a hand through messy uncombed hair. Sighing in frustration at the witch and the world in general, he pushed his way through the white door and walked towards the occupied bed in the center of the room.

Looking down at the sleeping man, his eyes took in the slight feverish look and the paler than normal face. And while the man looked so much better than he had before, Harry couldn't help but be upset and a little bit worried.

He glanced around the room for a chair, so he may sit down and watch over the sleeping man, but other than a white bedside table and a small lamp with a white shade, there was nothing but the bed in the room. Pulling his wand out he flicked it, conjuring up a comfy armchair. He stared at it for a moment, before his brows went down in determination and he charmed it to be not white, like everything else in the room, but an awful green and crimson plaid pattern. Grinning slightly in satisfaction at his childish act of defiance, Harry sat down.  
_______________

 

(Snape's POV)

 

'And I always thought Hell was less white and more...fiery' Severus thought wryly, looking at the white walls of the hospital room to his right. 'Goes to show that even a renowned Potions Master doesn't know everything.'

Groaning in pain as he shifted, he assessed his injuries. Aching ribs and a dull throbbing in my neck; otherwise, everything feels fine.

With the least amount of rib moving possible, Severus slowly sat up. 'Scratch that,' he thought, 'Definitely not fine.' He clenched his jaw against the pain, closing his eyes. Once he reached something vaguely similar to an upright position, he let his body collapse back against the pillows. He opened his eyes and stared up at the white tiled ceiling. He was still more horizontal than he would have liked, but that couldn't be helped at the moment; it was all he could do not to hiss in pain every time he inhaled and his chest expanded.

Severus scowled and looked to his left. His eyes widened in shock, before his thin lips twisted themselves into his nastiest sneer.

"And here I thought I was in Hospital; now I know I must be in Hell." He muttered darkly to himself, and glared at the slowly waking man next to him. What form of torture was this?

"And a sick and twisted version of my greatest personal hell at that." The man's head came up from where it had been resting next to his sheet covered legs on the hospital cot.

"Huh?" Severus smirked as the man sleepily replied, blinking green eyes rapidly in an attempt to wake faster.

"How eloquent of you; your cognitive functions are truly astounding, a veritable wonder to behold." He said dryly, wincing in pain as the mans arm accidentally brushed against his bruised side. Despite the pain, the brief contact left his skin tingling beneath the sheet, and Severus scowled. "You would follow me to Hell, Potter. I always knew you lived to spite me, but was it to much to ask for some peace in death?"

Harry rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. "I hardly think I'm important enough to be a part of your personal version of hell, Professor." He said, grinning slightly. He shifted back into a more comfortable sitting position in his armchair. Turning his head to more fully face Snape, Harry winced; his neck was incredibly stiff from the awkward position he had been sleeping in.

Severus raised an eyebrow in mocking surprise. "Modesty, Potter? My, how we change our tune. Death has humbled you; and to think, I always said I wouldn't live to see the day." A smirk curled his lips, though it fell away when he saw the good natured grin on Potter's face. Damned Gryffindor!

"Funny, that. Your tune sounds eerily familiar." Severus caught himself staring at the man's mouth and sneered at Harry's grinning face. "Death couldn't humble me if he tried."

"Never have truer words been spoken." Severus said darkly. Then he scowled as Harry's grin just grew.

"Besides, if this is Hell, then you were right; you didn't live to see the day. Then again, neither did I." Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

Severus's eyes narrowed; something was wrong with Potter. He was being......nice? Amiable. It was wrong, he should be cursing me, gritting his teeth in barely held in rage. And I'm being nice back! Well, not nice, but...have I been cursed? No. Was there a flaw with one of my pain relief potions? Doubtful; St. Mungo's had the best brewers in the UK.

But still...We should be growling, shouting, something. Anything, anything but.......this, this friendliness.

Dark eyes peered from a pale face, scanning the man before him for any signs of dementia or potion influence. It was possible Potter was under the Imperious Curse, but unlikely; Severus still remembered how well Potter had fought it off, even as a young boy.

He watched as Harry stretched, tilting his head to stretch out his taut neck muscles. Severus found his eyes drawn to the hand that rested on that long pale neck. They followed it as it made its way down the expanse of skin to the top of a shoulder, resting there for a moment before digging into sore muscles. The mixture of pale skin and movement and the flashes of previously hidden freckles captured his sight and held it prisoner. It wasn't until a quiet moan escaped full red lips that Severus's eyes shot up and widened. He stared at Potter, who's eyes were closed, with more than a little shock, trying to sort out his thoughts. The fact that the mans lips were parted slightly, and his tongue periodically swiped at the lower lip wasn't helping his cognitive processes in the least.

Severus mentally shook himself. Get ahold of yourself, man! This was Potter! HARRY POTTER! The Chosen One, the Golden Boy— (James's SON for Christ's sake) and here he was, staring at him massaging himself like this was a wet dream, some kind of SODDING SEXUAL FANTASY!

Severus forced his eyes away, choosing instead to stare at the white wall in front of him. It has obviously been far too long since he got laid, if he was getting excited over bloody Potter.  
___________

 

(Harry's POV)

 

Harry watched dark eyes trail the length of his pale neck, and saw them fixate on his hand as it massaged the muscle in his shoulder. He smirked at the way Snape's eyes were opened wide and staring unblinkingly at him, before his own eyes were caught in a heated gaze staring at a pink tongue swiping across thin lips.

Green eyes closed at the sight, and he let out an involuntary moan. He continued to massage the muscle beneath his shoulder, but could feel the dark gaze move to his face. Keeping his eyes closed, Harry parted his lips, slowly letting his tongue swipe out. He felt his cheeks flush, and he could nearly TASTE the other mans gaze on him, like hot liquid chocolate on his skin. His body gave an unconscious shiver as he opened his eyes, watching as the older man turned to stare pointedly at the blank white wall. Harry smirked as his hand came down from his shoulder, to once again rest on the bed. Snape was still extremely pale, but he could see the remains of a dark flush on his hollowed cheeks and long neck.

Interesting.

"You might as well tell me why you're here, Potter. The sooner you tell me, the sooner you can leave and get back to whatever Gryffindor war heroes do in their spare time." Snape sneered and Harry raised an eyebrow. He was going to be like that, was he? Fine then; Harry wouldn't rise to the bait.

"Apparently us Gryffindor war heroes watch over Slytherin war heroes." He said, crossing one leg over the other slowly. Snape watched him silently, waiting for him to answer the question properly. He twirled his wand in his hand before continuing.  
"I'm here because you were hurt." He said honestly, dropping his wand into his lap and leaning forwards. "And because you are the only one left who knew my mum and dad."  
______________

 

(Snape's POV)

 

Severus scowled deeply. So that was why the boy was here; to force him into talking about his insufferable father, probably through enforcing the Wizards Life Debt he now owed Potter.

Severus couldn't identify why, but he felt oddly disappointed by that fact. It's not like he had expected anything more; this was a Potter he was dealing with, after all.

"So you're here to force me into telling you all about how your father and his friends treated me, and how Lily treated me after it all? Of course you are, you probably want a reason to brag to your friends about how important and amazing your pathetic excuse for a father was." He snarled. His chest ached from the exertion and force with which he was talking, but Severus ignored it. He was no stranger to pain, and pain was no stranger to him.

"What? No! Of course not! I just-"

Severus snarled and cut him off. "I don't care, Potter! I don't want to hear whatever stupid excuse you've prepared. Get out of my sight and get out of my hospital room."

Harry jolted backwards in surprise, and Severus felt a vindictive pleasure coil in the bbottom of his stomach. He knew his words and his tone were similar to the incident in Potter's fifth year, when he had caught Harry snooping inside his memories, and he could see the same fear and confusion in Potter's eyes now as he had back then. Harry stuttered out an apology and muttered a confused "Goodbye, sir" under his breath as he left. Severus felt a moment of guilt, before pushing it aside and purposefully forcing himself to fall asleep. As he was drifting off, already resigned to the inevitable nightmares he would be having, Severus thought of Potter's visit and snorted bitterly. 

Hopefully his anger at being made a fool of had been clear enough a message for the blasted child, he thought. And hopefully Potter wouldn't feel the need to darken his bedside again. 


End file.
